


My Work of Art

by nawrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Law Student Harry, M/M, Very little dialogue, art student niall, pretty cheesy but hey we all like fluffy narry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nawrry/pseuds/nawrry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is a free-spirited art student and Harry is a serious law student. Harry's never quite understood this thing called art, until Niall comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Work of Art

Brown curls the color of chocolate, alluring eyes that swirl with light and dark shades of green, smooth tan skin and plump pink lips is all Niall knows about this boy, but to the young artist it could be enough for a lifetime. The boy that sits at the table next to his is a work of art, something beautiful and angelic and almost unimaginable, but Niall's believes in art and magic and miracles, so this boy is very real. Normally Niall wouldn't have any business being in the library, he much rather prefers the dusty, paint streaked walls of the art hall, but Niall's found through the years that the library is a good background for people watching.

People inspire Niall, the way they move and talk and act, how they feel and love and hurt, it's all one brilliant piece of art to interpret. Niall can't focus on anyone else though. He's lost in watching this captivating boy read out of a thick, rather boring-looking book. Niall's eyes drift over the boy's features, his pencil moving in sync as he takes in the boy's features, the crease between his eyebrows and the curve of his nose, the pout in his lips and the long, beautiful lines of his neck, which looks strong and sturdy but somehow delicate at the same time as it dips into his black t-shirt. Niall spends almost thirty minutes lost in replicating the swirls in the boy's soft curls, almost desperate to reach out and run his fingers through them. Niall knows he's shamelessly staring, that his lips are parted in concentration and his eyes are focused nothing on this boy, that if this stranger were to turn his head at any moment Niall would be caught, but he can't bring himself to look away.

Both boys are some of the only ones left in the library when Niall finishes his sketch, a simple pencil drawing of the boy's side profile. Niall has to admit he's impressed with the boy's focus, he's been reading out of that thick book for almost three hours now. Glancing over his drawing, Niall knows he could leave anonymously, that he could keep this boy and the drawing he did of him a complete secret, but it wouldn't be right, using this beautiful boy for his art and never thanking him. Plus Niall needs a name to complete his drawing, he needs to know the voice that will accompany this portrait.

Straightening up, Niall ambles over to the boy, nervously leaning against the table across from him. He doesn't get the boy's attention until he clears his throat a couple of times. That beautiful pair of green eyes snap up to his, taking Niall's breath right out of his lungs. Niall realizes he's missed the hint of brown that lines the boy's pupils, the freckle that sits at the corner of the boy's eye. 

"Can I help you?" The boy asks. HIs voice is deep and raspy and reminds Niall of the slow, warm burn of a campfire. He fidgets nervously even though he's usually never nervous about his work.

"Would you mind if I drew you?" Niall blurts out. The boy's eyes narrow in confusion. "I'm sorry, I'm an art student and I was watching you from over there and you've just got this really nice profile and I think I could do something really nice with it."

The boy is still giving him a lost look. Niall can feel a twinge of disappointment.

"I already drew a bit, I hope you don't mind," he murmurs, pushing forward the sketch he made. "I'm more of a painter, but seeing how I don't have my paints I just had to do a sketch. But if you wouldn't mind sometime I'd love to sit down and paint you." Niall knows he sounds crazy, and he knows the other boy is thinking he's mad as he stares down at the drawing, his brow creasing again in concentration. Niall is about to give up when miraculously the boy looks up and says yes, a beautiful grin playing at the corners of his lips. Niall lights up in excitement, throwing out times and places that they can meet. He's about to leave when he remembers the last detail he wanted to know.

"Oh yeah, what's your name?" Niall asks.

"Harry. And yours?" The boy asks.  _Harry, Harry, Harry,_ Niall says to himself, smiling at the way his name seems to match just perfectly to his face.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Niall," he replies. Harry smiles with the same sort of satisfaction.

*****

Harry doesnt know why he said yes to the blonde-haired boy with the shockingly blue eyes and the thick accent. It isn't like him to be so spontaneous and trusting. He's pulling his things out of his book bag when the sketch Niall drew falls to his feet. Harry picks it up and looks over it, feeling that same speechless feeling he had before. Harry's never understood art, it's never interested him to create something that's so personal. It takes confidence and trust and creativity, and the analytical side of Harry's mind tells him that it's flattering that Niall has chosen to draw him. Harry sets the picture aside, but he can't ignore the way that Niall has seemed to capture Harry perfectly just in that short snapshot of time, and his stomach flutters in thought of what the blonde could find out in even more time. Harry goes to bed shortly after, dreaming of bright blue eyes and halos of blonde hair, the work of art that stood in front of him just hours ago.

*****

Harry's sitting in front of Niall, quirking his eyebrow at the blonde over his steaming mug of tea Niall emits some sort of noise that resembles a giggle before ordering Harry to become still again. He's trying to work, after all. Harry places his mug back down and gazes out the window, resuming the position Niall had suggested earlier. The coffee shop they're in provides a soft glow against the grey, rainy sky outside of the window. Niall is painting Harry from the waist up, his head turned to look out the window, half of him bathed in soft light while the other is dark. The blonde paints for a little bit at a time before giving Harry a break, letting him turn his head the other way so he doesn't get a stiff neck. During breaks the boys talk, learning bits and pieces about the other that fill out the portraits they've created of the other. Harry is just a few months younger than Niall, he's a law student, loves music, and calls his mom almost every day to talk. He's serious, but has soft edges and a gentle smile that make Niall feel light and warm. He says silly things that still manage to be profound, and Niall decides if there's one thing he loves more than painting, it's listening to Harry talk.

A few hours and more than their fair share of tea later, Niall's painting is complete. He shows it to Harry a bit shyly, afraid of what the younger boy who suddenly means so much to him will think. Harry takes it in his hands and looks over it, the corners of his mouth slowly turning upward and his eyes lighting up. 

"It's amazing," Harry murmurs, his voice swirling in warmth like the sip of tea Niall just drank. "Really Niall, you're so talented." Niall's cheeks engulf in heat that he couldn't subdue if he were standing outside in the cold rain.

"Thanks, Harry," he replies. "You're a good model." Niall thinks he catches the same sort of blush filling Harry's face. He bites his lip and tries to think of a way to prolong their goodbye when Harry interrupts him.

"Would you like to go grab dinner somewhere?" Harry asks hopefully. "There's an Italian place down the road that's pretty good." Niall's heart hammers because he knows which place Harry is talking about, and it's notoriously romantic.

"Yeah, that sounds great." Niall replies a bit breathlessly. "Would you mind if we stopped off at my place so I can drop my stuff off?" Harry agrees and Niall tries to stop the pounding of his heart when he imagines Harry in his flat. 

The boys never make it to the restaurant. As it turns out, the slight drizzle that was raining down on the windows that afternoon has turned into a full on downpour, leaving the two boys to almost sprint to Niall's place, both of them shaking and giggling by the time they're inside. Niall watches as Harry retrieves Niall's painting from the inside of his coat, where he tucked it against his chest to protect it from the rain. Niall watches breathlessly as Harry looks over it, his lips stretching into a grin because he saved it, and suddenly Niall can't ignore the way Harry's hair looks so adorable when it's wet, and how his eyes are dancing with so many colors, and how pink and wet his lips look, so he steps forward and kisses him right then, molding his lips to Harry's like it's what they were meant to do. One of his hands rests on the back of Harry's neck, his fingers twirling around one of Harry's wet curls, his other hand resting on Harry's waist. Harry drops the painting to the ground as genty as he can before throwing his arms around the smaller boy and pulling him closer, until he can feel the outline of Niall's body under his wet clothes, until he's panting for breath but all he can taste and feel and smell is Niall.

*****

If Harry didn't understand art before, he definitely knows what it is now as he wakes up to Niall laying next to him. Niall's a beautiful peace of artwork while he's sleeping, all soft lines and pretty colors and an overwhelming sense of innocence and vulnerability. His eyes are closed, long eyelashes resting on his pink cheeks, his hair a soft crown of blonde hair that Harry can't help but run his fingers through, his lips colored a shade of red that can only be brought about by a good amount of kissing. Harry closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Niall's, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his warmth all around him, fitting to Harry's side like he is just supposed to belong there. Harry knows he doesn't know art very well, but he knows enough to realize he has a masterpiece in Niall.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like how this one turned out. I should try writing something other than Narry sometime though...  
> I'd love to hear your comments, etc. :)


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